


Metamorphosis

by Madtom_Publius



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF
Genre: Gen, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:33:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6275380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madtom_Publius/pseuds/Madtom_Publius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander reinvents himself in the American colonies</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr by publius-esquire, edited for grammar and tweaked for content

As he adjusted his cravat and brushed down his coat for the seventh time, Alec could hardly believe the young gentleman staring from his reflection was the same scrawny orphan who’d stumbled off a boat not too many weeks ago. The difference was striking. Hercules Mulligan had insisted a change in wardrobe was necessary before he could be introduced brightly to New York society. So he’d let his new friend fit him with a new outfit for school. With money in his pocket for the first in a long time, Alec had been drawn to the tailor’s fetching styles that the well-born strutted about in, and couldn’t stop admiring his new overcoat in the looking glass. 

 

It was incredible how clothes that properly fit could make him feel so much more dignified than the hand-me-downs from his brother that had always been too big. Alec swelled with pride; at last he was starting too look the part he felt his aristocratic heritage entitled him too. 

 

Twirling around to admire the length of his coattails, he caught a glimpse of the old waistcoat he’d tossed haphazardly on the chair. The smile he’d been wearing so freely in the mirror pressed into a pensive frown as he picked up the patched and frayed fabric, running his fingers over the worn collar. Alec furrowed his brow while the familiar pang of shame washed over him. The stitches along ripped seams, the color sunbleached until the original pigment was unidentifiable, the sand that could never be shook out, the blood stains he’d been unable to wash away; all was the story of the life of a boy who’d known how fickle fortune could be, how ugly human nature could turn, and the overwhelming twinges of regret that came with every compromise he’d made to survive a world not made for him. Yes, it would be appropriate to discard his old clothes now; to his soul, it would be cathartic to shed his old identity for good, bury it forever in a chest no one could unlock. No one needed to know what he was - what he did - what desperation could drive a friendless youth to do. The grasping, opportunistic, needy bastard wouldn’t need anyone here. He was in a new colony, in a new world, he had money, access to an education and a society that didn’t know his story. It would be so easy to reinvent himself here.

 

He tucked the shame, the guilt of so many years of disillusionment and compromise deep inside. The self-hatred Alec had felt for all of the seedy decisions he’d made to get to this point could be buried under the honor of a gentleman. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes here, he told himself as he banished those darker thoughts. Here he’d be proper. He’d get an education, marry well, and finally restore some dignity to his father’s name. 

 

So tossing his old waistcoat into the waste basket, Alexander returned his attention to his reflection, primping and preparing himself until the metamorphosis might be at last complete. 


End file.
